


The Aftermath

by UranianProcyonid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UranianProcyonid/pseuds/UranianProcyonid
Summary: when mondatta is killed, zen and genji seek each other's company.soft and sad and quiet





	The Aftermath

The sound of the gunshot through the television’s speakers resounded through the bar, ricocheting through hearts and processors alike. Humans and omnics all focused on the screen with their cores burning.

Seeing omnics receive bad news and begin to mourn was different from watching humans, but it still pulled harsly on Genji’s heart. While no tears were shed by the omnics, the moments of disbelief must have caused some kind of shortage; the lights on their bodies brightened and flickered. Some stood up, as if the reflex to go try to help would have been fruitful. Some tried to ask questions, checking with others if what they had just seen was real, but their vocal synthesizers cut out in some words. That familiar tremor hit Genji the hardest.

Genji had never met Mondatta, but seeing him getting shot during his speech was no less tragic due to his lack of skin. It was almost as painful as when he passed through Hanamura and saw a gravestone with his name on it next to those of his parents.

While he was hurt and afraid, he knew someone who needed comfort more at that moment. He dropped money on the counter and ran out of the bar, down the street, to the hospital.

\--

At this hour, Zenyatta would normally still be in ICU volunteering his healing with the more difficult cases. Instead, Genji found him on the 2nd floor, alone, looking out a window in an unoccupied room, sitting on the guest chair.

“Zen…” Genji whispered. Zenyatta didn’t turn, but the mala around his neck moved a little. It made Genji realize they had been idle before. Genji walked in and set his hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder blade. “I’m so sorry… I don’t really know what to say…” His voice began to break. “He didn’t deserve that. We all… If… What can I do, Zen? Do you want to go somewhere? Do you need space? Can I…” Zenyatta lifted his hand to stop him.

“Genji… Your company is all I could ask for right now.” Zenyatta’s hand turned and rested open, requesting for Genji to take it. He quickly did. “While I knew we’d lose him somehow, someday, I was not prepared for it to be so soon…”

Genji knelt on the floor and leaned his head against Zenyatta’s knee. Despite his many varying experiences with death, Genji had only once had to deal with the emotional aftermath another person would experience, when his mother died. Hanzo had been old enough to understand death, but not mature enough to help Genji understand. He found activities to busy himself with to avoid thinking of it. He’d train, or study, or do anything suggested to him. Genji was still struggling with the concepts and would ask Hanzo why he wouldn’t play with him and why Father was in his room so much. But Zenyatta wasn’t the type to ignore pain or difficult thoughts, especially his own. He would certainly be thinking about Mondatta’s life, about the Iris, about what might happen to the world without such a brilliant and gentle being. Genji wondered if he should ask to hear Zenyatta’s thoughts or if he should let him think in peace. He rubbed his thumb across the knuckles on Zenyatta’s hand and breathed as slowly as he could. He turned his head up to look out the window, but his position allowed him only to see the clouds and the tops of 2 buildings nearby.

“He told me once,” Zenyatta began suddenly, “that one of the infinite things that makes life so special is knowing that it will end, but not when. I asked him what would be different if one knew their when... He said that would make it more special, because one will want to fill their remaining time as tightly as possible with experiences and deeds, and that _that_ was one of the true markers of humanity.”

“He had more humanity than a lot of us, I think,” Genji said.

Zenyatta didn’t comment on that. “I think I wouldn’t like to know my _when_. I don’t think I want to rush anything good if I can avoid it.”

A few raindrops hit the window, their tapping a gentle drum, a tearful soundtrack to the night.

“I’m glad Mondatta didn’t know his _when_, then,” Genji said. “I think most of us wouldn’t want to know.”

Genji held Zenyatta’s hand silently for a while. They listened to the rain and together, wondered if Mondatta would see them, and know how they felt.

A burst of commotion down the hall from a frustrated patient finally interrupted them. Zenyatta made a soft noise and said, “I think I should go back to the temple for the night…”

“Do you want some company?”

“I think I would like that very much.”

\--

Zenyatta made tea, and Genji made a nest of the blankets and pillows stored in one of the rooms in the temple. Zenyatta brought the tea back to Genji and watched the steam rise and disappear from the cup. He sat on one of the pillows and tucked his feet under another. He thought about the brief existence of the steam, of the tea, and of the cloths they had nestled into. Genji sipped his tea slowly and watched Zenyatta’s hands. His fingers were interlocked as usual, but occasionally one would rub the back of the opposite hand, as if he was trying to focus on keeping his mind on the present with the small motion. He was still here, and so was Genji. Zenyatta looked up finally, at Genji’s face, whose eyes met his readily.

“Without Mondatta to offer me guidance and opinions and comfort, I’m going to have to think harder on my own. Making decisions without his council will be hard. I trusted him so much.”

Genji looked down for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near as wise and gentle as him, but… at the least, I will always be available for anything you’d like to ask someone…”

Zenyatta reached his hand out and lifted Genji’s chin. “And that means more than I can say. Your presence and words and gestures are wholly kind, and I appreciate you infinitely.” Genji couldn’t look away from Zenyatta’s lenses. He lifted his arms to offer -or request- a hug. Zenyatta had never been a touchy person, but he hugged Genji softly tonight. He listened to Genji’s breathing and tried to slow or close some of his own processes. They stayed like that until Genji fell asleep, and Zenyatta stretched himself out beside him. Tomorrow there would be time to talk more about Mondatta and about life. Tonight, they were warm, and the rain on the temple roof drummed on.

**Author's Note:**

> there is no wrong way to feel about death and knowing one's _when_. if any of you need to vent about your feelings, please feel free to use the comments. handling these things can be very difficult and i want u all to feel heard.


End file.
